I had to text the Jerk Ex-Boyfriend. I always had to text the Jerk Ex-Boyfriend. He wasn't even my Jerk Ex-Boyfriend. I didn't even like the Jerk Ex-Boyfriend. I don't think I ever liked him, not once. Not even at the eighth-grade Valentine's Day Dance when he gave her that bracelet and she was all “aww!” And I was all “gag.”
She was too busy to text the Jerk Ex-Boyfriend. She was kicking aside laundry and searching through her drawers for yet another box of makeup. I could recognize all that makeup – I either gave it to her or was over so often that I knew just what she had.
I wish I still knew what she keeps in those boxes.
I was on her bed, lounging in a tank top. I had a T-shirt on originally, but she was wearing a tank top and I wanted to also.
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